I suddenly remembered Uncle Xuan, the Nghe merchant who used to bring fish sauce boats to the North to sell and stay at my house, and remember the joke that his mother joked that Uncle Xuan is a wooden fisherman (There is an anecdote that there are families in Nghe An). The family is too poor, the daily food is a log carved into the shape of a fish soaked in fish sauce, everyone in the house eats rice while sucking on a wooden fish…) Now I understand the poverty of the people of Nghe An. Poor but loved his village so he did not leave. Cling to the ground to live. Suffering in the barren and rocky places, breathing the dry air that burns your neck because of the terrible Lao winds. The life of the people of Nghe An is as heavy as the voice of Nghe An.